


Control

by bactaqueen



Category: AFI
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Breathplay, M/M, Violence, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 21:32:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2285169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bactaqueen/pseuds/bactaqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunter has rules, Adam is in control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people or events is entirely coincidental.
> 
> Author's Note: I wrote a Hundam. Go me. One shot, less than a thousand words, probably not for you if you want something sweet and light. Originally posted December 2006.

Hunter hit the wall so hard he heard bones crack as the air rushed from his lungs. Then Adam’s nose was mashed against his and his mouth was full of a rough tongue and the taste of cigarettes and stale saliva and blood. He got both hands between his body and Adam’s, braced them against Adam’s chest, and shoved. This time it was Adam stumbling back and slamming into the wall.   
  
“No kissing.” Hunter glared.   
  
Adam’s mouth was smeared with Hunter’s blood. He raised a hand and wiped the blood away, shrugged, set his shoulders, and started again toward Hunter. “You don’t make the rules.”  
  
“I fucking do.” Hunter was still seething from the kiss. It was one of the only rules. No kissing. Kissing made it intimate, made it more than it was. He didn’t want it to be anything but what it was. So when Adam was close enough, Hunter cocked his fist and smashed it into that smug face.   
  
The crack of bones beneath his knuckles was a satisfying sound.   
  
While Adam was still stunned, Hunter fisted his hands in the worn collar of his shirt and pushed him back. Adam was taller so his feet got in the way, and all the way back toward the bed as Hunter manhandled him, Adam stumbled.   
  
“You want this,” Hunter said, “you play by the rules.”  
  
A heartbeat later, his face was buried in Adam’s rank armpit and his windpipe was slowly being crushed in the crook of Adam’s elbow.   
  
“I want this. I’ll fucking change the rules if I want.”  
  
Black was beginning to edge out his vision. Hunter started swinging his fists, pounding them into Adam’s sides, the small of his back, his hips, his stomach, anything he could reach. His air was going. He was not going to be unconscious this time. Fuck that. A lucky swing landed a punch in Adam’s groin.   
  
Adam’s hold on Hunter loosened enough for Hunter to twist free. He dropped back into a half-defensive stance and kept his narrowed eyes on Adam while he caught his breath.   
  
The pain cleared from Adam’s face quickly and his body straightened. Glowering, he stripped the worn old t-shirt over his head and kicked off the ratty old Adidas. He opened his belt and tugged it from the loops of his Levi’s. He folded it in half and pulled it taut between his hands, snapping the imitation leather at eye-level. And Hunter knew just what Adam had in mind. He groaned.   
  
“Get your clothes off.” Adam advanced slowly.   
  
“No breath control.” Hunter yanked his shirt over his head. “You nearly killed me last time.”  
  
“That’s the point.” Adam made a loop with the belt.   
  
There was no secret excitement, only dread like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach, pushing lower and lower. But he got off on it so there was no argument. Hunter got his pants off and his cock was already hard. Adam knew this, which was the only reason he got away with it. It was the deal: if you’re hard, we go.   
  
Hunter still threw one more punch and split those spiteful smiling lips against those perfectly white teeth one more time. He’d pass out with blood on his hands, at least.   
  
Adam looped the belt over Hunter’s head and around his neck. At first it was nothing; then it was a collar; then it was tighter and tighter, and Hunter was fighting to control his breathing, to keep as much oxygen in his system for as long as he could.  
  
The weight of Adam was crushing and the pillow enveloped his face, hiding the light and bringing the blackness so quickly Hunter had to fight the panic. The bedspread scratched his skin and the stink of it rose up around him. Adam wrenched his legs apart and Hunter’s breath caught involuntarily as he prayed Adam would remember some form of lube this time.   
  
He did. Spit wasn’t much, but it was better than a dry cock shoved unceremoniously up your ass. Hunter grunted and Adam tightened the belt. With each thrust, the belt tightened, fraction by fraction until darkness really was closing in and Hunter was fighting for every drawn breath, every movement. He felt lightheaded and everything was fuzzy, every physical sensation. He was losing it.   
  
Adam twisted him around. The darkness was bright, a brilliant blackness. The belt tightened, the thrusts roughened, everything was thick and…   
  
Pressure on his mouth. A kiss stealing the breath he saved. Hunter tried to raise his hands, this was against the rules… against the… His wrists were pinned at the small of his back, under him and under the weight of Adam, and he didn’t remember when that happened. He was shaking. Close to the edge despite himself, overloaded, rushed and helpless. And Adam was kissing him.   
  
“Fuck you, Hunter. Fuck you and fuck your rules.”  
  
It was all over, anyway.  


End file.
